


Run Wild, Young Beauty

by destinae



Series: Moments in Love [3]
Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: M/M, really niche northeastern us au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-04-08 05:15:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14098032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/destinae/pseuds/destinae
Summary: Newt brings some books from the antique shop he works at to Hermann's library.





	Run Wild, Young Beauty

He met Hermann at the library, which made sense, because that's where Hermann worked.

 

It had been Newt's father's idea for him to take a gap year between his Master's and his Doctorate program. It was supposed to be a chance for Newt to hunker down and do some research, maybe find a position in a lab and find out what kind of science he wanted to focus on. However, Newt had instead chosen to take the opportunity to find employ at a small antique shop in Cape Cod, which had about as many cats as it did elderly ladies stowed in every overcrowded corner of the shop, knitting perpetually unfinished scarves and telling stories about grandchildren who never seemed to do a single thing wrong.

 

The position didn't pay well, but the ladies fed him two meals a day and didn't judge the tattoos, so Newt had made the place a home for himself.

 

He didn't spend much time anywhere other than  _Treasured Memories_ ( the antique shop in question ),  _Stonewall Records_ ( a vinyl  & comic shop down the street from the store ), and the local Ihop. Thus, when Newt was told to take a collection of unsold historical novels to the library for donation, it was a grand journey. Barbara ( one of the co-founders of the shop, a sweet old lady who walked with a cane and was constantly cross-stitching canvases for her granddaughter ) had prepared him a lunch, so he wouldn't have to "worry about finding somewhere else to eat, dear", and Georgette ( Barbara's best friend from college, who helped her run the shop and occasionally brought Newt ties that she found at the secondhand store ) had given him $10 for some gas. 

 

The library was much more charming than Newt had imagined. It had likely been a house in a former life, as the parking was limited to a single narrow stretch of concrete that barely seemed to hold the cars of the employees-- who were the only people there, since he'd been told to drop by before the place opened for the day. Newt carried the first of many cardboard boxes of books to the front door of the library with a slipping hold, nudging the doorbell ( on a  _library?_ ) with his elbow and waiting a few moments.

 

When the door opened, it seemed to reveal another dimension. Wooden shelves ran in neat rows down the length of a corridor that gave way only to rooms that were filled with piles and shelves of books. Chairs that had once been meant to be sat on only held leather-bound almanacs, and at the end of the hallway sat a single desk. However, all of this was obscured by the man that Newt found himself facing.

 

He seemed to be the human equivalent of a backslash. Everything about him was tall and slanted and lean, his expression severe and uninterested. Glasses with a thin, fabric strap hung around his neck and almost blended into the tawny color of his sweater vest. Everything about him screamed librarian. And then he spoke.

 

"Newton Geiszler."

 

It was a distinctly English accent, though there was no telling what region it was from. The name was evidently supposed to be a greeting, so Newt let out a nervous laugh, adjusting his grip on the box. "Yeah, you must be Hermann?"

 

"Yes."

 

"Oh, great, I've got those books for you. Where... where do you want me to put them, man?" Newt asked, craning his neck to get a better look at the space behind Hermann. 

 

"Follow me."

  
Upon Hermann's turn, Newt realized that he used a cane. It was a simple thing, made of polished wood. As he walked behind Hermann, Newt realized that the cane definitely  _wasn't_ a fashion statement. They arrived at the desk that Newt had captured a glimpse of, and Hermann gestured at a small area of open space on the hardwood. "There, set it down." He said, "I'll go through and add it in later."

 

Newt nodded, taking the chance to roll up his sleeves and really take in the area around him. It was eclectic, but Newt was well acquainted with the organized chaos of a creative mind. "This... this is a library?" Newt asked, "Not-- I mean, not to pass judgement, it's clearly got a lot of books, which is kind of the core function of a library." 

 

"It is." Hermann said, picking up the first book in the box and examining the spine. "It's a private collection, but the public is welcome to it."

 

"Right. Cool," Newt said, nodding and crossing his arms. "Uh... I'll go get the rest. You, uh... you do your thing."

 

It took four trips for Newt to get the books taken care of. By the end of it, the boxes had formed a small pile by the desk, where Hermann sat carefully entering the titles, authors, and descriptions of each book into an outdated computer. 

 

"That's it. For now, I mean." Newt said.

 

"Thanks."

 

A long silence hung in the air, and Newt realized that was all he was getting. Newt shifted his weight on his feet. "So, do you live here? Or is it... is it just books?"

 

"Just books." Hermann replied flatly.

 

More silence. Hermann didn't seem very sociable, but this was also Newt's first prolonged exposure to anyone younger than sixty years old in nearly two weeks, and he was going to milk it for all he could. "How often do you get out of this place, man?" Newt asked, only realizing how mean the question sounded after he had asked it. "I mean, I'd love to take you.Out, I mean. Of this place."

 

A pause.

 

"I'm busy today. Sorry, Newton."

 

"Just Newt, please." He said lightly.

 

"I'm busy, Newt."

 

"I mean... it doesn't look like it's in very high demand, man. Just lock up and grab some coffee with me. I think it'd do both of us a lot of good."

 

Twenty minutes later, Newt was driving them to the closest, Yelp-approved coffee place.

 

The place was sweet and small, and also seemed to be built in a formerly residential space. They were greeted by a kind woman, seemingly middle-aged, who took their orders and disappeared to prepare them, returning only when she had their orders ready-- black coffee with cream and sugar on the side for Newt, and hot tea for Hermann. For a few moments, they sipped their drinks in silence.

 

"Why did you choose to give up the books?" Hermann asked.

 

Newt paused. "I-- I don't know. I didn't make the choice, I'm just the delivery guy."

 

"Oh."

 

Full stop. Newt chewed on his lip for a moment and took another sip of his coffee. "It's just a short-term job. I'm taking some time off from school before my doctoral program."

 

This got Hermann's attention. Was it a surprise to him? Newt knew that he often came across as a bit less qualified than he was-- this was likely another case of it. "What did you receive your master's in?" 

 

"Uh... functional biology." The short answer was a lot more comfortable than Newt going into excruciating detail about his painstaking insight into the speciation of blind creatures found at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean. 

 

"Interesting." Hermann said, in a tone suggesting that it was not interesting at all.

 

Maybe Newt didn't  _want_ to break the silence between them.

 

"I'm writing a dissertation," Hermann said, not looking up from his drink, "I'm trying to construct a formula, to predict the likelihood of significant military conflict. It's... it's why I keep the library. To be able to accumulate as comprehensive of a knowledge as I can of the world." He stirred his tea, "And I hope to figure out an enumerated list of factors that correlate with armed conflict."

 

"So you want to save the world?" Newt asked, taking a long sip of his coffee.

 

A pause. "I suppose so."

 

"That's a lot cooler than what I was doing. You didn't tell me you were, like,  _Monuments Men_ -ing it."

 

"I- did you see  _Monuments Men_?" Hermann asked.

 

"That's the one with, uh... the world saving, right?"

 

"Not entirely."

 

"Oh." Newt said, setting down his coffee cup. "Damn."

 

This was what the conversation dissolved into: they began to explore one another's ideas, and while the rapport was choppy, comfort grew with time.

 

Four hours later, Hermann was getting a phone call from a student who wanted to visit the collection.

 

Newt drove him back, and for the duration of the ride, they debated what marked the end of the Cold War, although Newt knew next to nothing about it ( except the fact that apparently,  _The Shape of Water_  was somewhat accurate in tone ) . Newt pulled up to the curb, hand resting on the car's shift, the other drumming the wheel. "Hey, listen. I know neither of us have a ton of free time, but if you ever want to argue with me again-- I mean, or agree with me, that's also an option-- I could find some more books to drop off."

 

The look in Hermann's eyes was unreadable, but it was clear that he hadn't expected Newt to extend the invite. It was his turn to not know what to say. "Yes-yes for certain, that'd be alright. If you happen to find any books detailing the political climate of the West Indies during World War I--" he cut himself off. "I mean, you know where to find me."

 

"Yeah."

 

Then Newt was leaning over the console, kissing Hermann gently on the lips with a kind of nervous bravery. "Was that- was that too forward?" Newt asked, eyes flitting between Hermann's lips and his eyes, trying to discern how Hermann felt about it.

 

"I- no."

 

Newt smiled, but Hermann didn't. He knew better than to think too hard about it. "Thank God. I don't know how I'd break it to Barb that we'd have to find someone else to pawn our books off to." Newt said, sitting back in his chair and biting his lip. 

 

He got out of the car, helping Hermann out of it and watching him walk up to the front door of the library. "Hey, Hermann!" Newt called, walking around to his side of the car again.

 

"Yes?"

 

"Let me know how saving the world goes."

**Author's Note:**

> find me @SLUTTYOTACHI on twitter.


End file.
